Sesshomaru had every right to hunt down that senile blacksmith Totosai for giving him this blunt slab. Father's last wish, Bokuseno, the old magnolia, had said. Well, what happened to Tetsusaiga? Or Sounga? Of all fangs, why the pathetic Tenseiga?
The Western Lord held the blade up to the sunlight, inspecting it. A fine sight, maybe even a good paperweight, but that was it.
Bokuseno said it could "bind together the unraveling souls of the weak." Now what was the point in that? One didn't gain power by sparing lives, especially those of the weak.
Perhaps there is another intrinsic property?
Sesshomaru glanced up the road. A lone human traveler was heading his way.
Time for a test.
The young man could barely gasp just before a delicate-looking nobleman shoved a set of claws through his chest. The mortal shuddered, then lay still.
Step one complete.
The Heaven Fang was drawn, and unceremoniously whacked over the deceased's body.
Now what?
Sesshomaru stared at the corpse, half-expecting it to sit up and be on its way. But nothing happened. Why should anything? The demon felt nothing for this human. No compassion, no sympathy, not a drop of pity – only emptiness. As far as Sesshomaru was concerned the insect's death was no loss. There were a million more where he came from.
But Tenseiga…it wasn't even performing as it was said to.
Is the fault in me?
Sesshomaru swung the blade over the cadaver again.
Farther said he could wield it.
Another swing.
Why can't I? I'm his son! I even used Tetsusaiga!
Swing, swing, swing.
With each ineffective slash, Sesshomaru grew more frustrated until his talons dug into the hilt. Finally, he simply decapitated the body and stalked off the roadside to the nearby pasture.
I can't use it. I can't use Father's sword. He glared down at Tenseiga. Or maybe it's just useless.
Sesshomaru sheathed the blade and set it down in the grass.
That's that.
-
The evening breeze sighed, but Sesshomaru inwardly grumbled as he walked through an open field.
It's probably gone by now, he reasoned. His eyes scanned the premises catching a human form leaning over where he'd left the Tenseiga. The mortal eventually slumped to his knees as what felt like a set of daggers ripped out his internal organs.
"This isn't for the likes of you."
Tenseiga found itself back at the hip of its rightful owner.
If Father could carry the same useless weight so can I.
Naturally, Sesshomaru never figured there would be an instance where he would ever actually use the worthless fang. After all, since when was a life-giving sword needed by someone named and trained to be Perfect Destruction?
